


it feels like forever (i love the way that feels)

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [19]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Gen, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 18:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13553493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “I wanted to go over our plans for the week again,” Waverly says.Nicole groans. “We went over it a hundred times yesterday.”“I forgot about Girls’ Night with Chrissy and Rosita.” Waverly reaches into her front pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She smoothes it out on the kitchen table, right over the article Nicole is reading, and points to the addition at the bottom of the list. “So we’ll need to move our movie night around.”Nicole groans again. “I don’t want to go see that movie.”





	it feels like forever (i love the way that feels)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a love letter to Pirate!Smurf Productions and our mutual love for The Cutting Edge (1992). If you haven't already seen that movie, what's your beef? Watch it! That being said: this contains spoilers for the movie, but tough luck.
> 
> Featuring date night, some flashbacks, and a splash of Interrupting Wynonna. Plus a bonus character you'll either love or hate.
> 
> This takes place in the spring of 1992. Nicole is 20. Waverly is 19 and home on spring break.

**“Feels Like Forever” Joe Cocker, 1992  
** _ Let's put our hearts in the hands of fate. Time will tell us if what we've got was worth the wait. And there's a fire that's been burning deep inside of me, and I don't need nobody else, 'cause now you're here with me. You turned my world around. _

Someone knocks on the back door.

Nicole checks the clock, her eyes taking a minute to focus before the numbers make sense to her. It’s her day off, but Nathan came home early in the morning, banging pots and pans as he tried to make himself some Hamburger Helper, and she wearily shuffled out of bed to face the day.

Her mom made coffee, and Nicole managed to get Nathan up the stairs, ignoring his complaints about her not being careful with his knee. When she got back downstairs, her mom was making toast, had the radio on, and the Ottawa Citizen was spread out across the table. 

She’s in the middle of reading Part 5 of the Ottawa Citizen’s “IT Factor” series - this one about Bonnevilles - when someone knocks on the door.

“It’s 0530,” she mumbles, dropping her forehead down against the table.

Her mom sighs. Nicole can hear the scrape of her chair against the linoleum floor and the soles of her slippers flapping as she walks across the kitchen to the back door. The hinges creak and Nicole makes a note to fix that this weekend.

“Oh, Waverly,” her mom says brightly. “Good morning.”

Nicole sits up abruptly, her eyes wide. She finger-combs her hair into place, scowling when she feels her hair working against her. She looks down at herself and sighs. She’s wearing a pair of Nathan’s sport shorts and an old Ratt shirt with a hole in the armpit. She sticks her foot out from under the table - her socks have a hole in one toe.

For a moment, she wonders how long it would take to get up the stairs and change.

_ I can’t,  _ she realizes.  _ Waverly would see me sneaking across the kitchen _ .

“Good morning, Mrs. Haught,” Waverly says. “I know it’s early but I was wondering if I could go upstairs and wake Nicole up?”

Her mom laughs softly. “Sorry to ruin your plans, honey. She’s already awake. But come in, come in,” she says, pushing the screen door open wider. “To be honest, I’m surprised you’re up, too. I seem to remember Nicole sitting down here complaining about you wasting the day away upstairs.”

Waverly slips into the kitchen just in time for Nicole to see Waverly’s cheeks flush. She’s in a bright pink crop top and dark blue jeans, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail that barely bounces against her nearly-bare shoulders. She smiling widely, twisting her hand in front of her body, rocking from heel to toe in her gold 1985 Nike Vandal Supreme Moon Shoes that no one else would ever be able to pull off so well. 

Nicole misses her next sip of coffee and it dribbles down her chin and into the neck of her shirt.

“I  _ usually _ am a late sleeper,” Waverly agrees. “But I’m only home for the week, and I want to make the most of it.”

Her mom smiles. “Well, if you’re here, you’re eating breakfast,” she declares. She points at the kitchen table.

Nicole sheepishly waves a hand hello.

“So go sit and let me whip up some eggs and potatoes,” her mom continues. “Act like I’m not even here.”

Nicole looks her mom up and down. She’s in her slippers and a heavy bathrobe, sash tied into a bulky knot at her waist. “We’ll try,” she says lightly, grinning at Waverly. She puts down her coffee cup. “Morning, you,” she breathes out as Waverly comes closer.

Waverly smiles widely and slides her hands behind Nicole’s neck, lacing them and angling Nicole’s head back. “Good morning,” she says, her mouth against Nicole’s. “Why’re you up so early? It’s your day off.”

Nicole scowls for a second before Waverly kisses her again. “Nathan,” she grumbles when Waverly pulls away. “He went out with some of the guys he met out in Abee and didn’t get home until 0500.”

Waverly frowns softly, sitting down in the seat next to Nicole. She edges it closer, her ankle hooking around the back of Nicole’s calf. Nicole lets her hand fall to Waverly’s leg, stroking her thumb over the heavy denim fabric.

She wants this for forever - sitting in the kitchen with Waverly smiling at her, even though she’s in her worst shirt and her hair is a mess. 

“What’re you doing here?” Nicole asks. “I thought we were meeting at The Patch?” She leans forward quickly. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, I mean. It’s clutch.  _ Aces _ ,” she says, words falling out of her mouth faster than her brain can process what she’s saying. “I’m really glad you’re here. You’re the bomb. I mean it. You’re so pretty and I like you so much.”

Waverly laughs, using her hand to cover Nicole’s mouth gently. “I get it, you noob.” She shrugs. 

Nicole sighs gratefully, her body sagging in relief. She thinks, for a minute, about licking Waverly’s palm to get her to move, but Waverly lets go first.

“I wanted to go over our plans for the week again,” Waverly says.

Nicole groans. “We went over it a  _ hundred _ times yesterday.”

“I forgot about Girls’ Night with Chrissy and Rosita.” Waverly reaches into her front pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She smoothes it out on the kitchen table, right over the article Nicole is reading, and points to the addition at the bottom of the list. “So we’ll need to move our movie night around.”

Nicole groans again. “I don’t want to go see that movie.”

“Oh, which movie,” her mom asks.

Waverly turns in her seat. “ _ The Cutting Edge _ ,” she says excitedly. “With D.B. Sweeney and Moira Kelly.”

Her mom sighs dreamily. “Oh, D.B. Sweeny. He was in  _ Eight Men Out _ .”

Nicole frowns. “You watched that movie?”

Her mom shrugs. “Nathan rented it and I got bored of all the reruns on TV, so I watched it. I liked it,” she admits. “Though, what that team did was wrong. And I don’t think Shoeless Joe Jackson was as stupid as they made him out to be.” She shrugs again. “So, what is  _ The Cutting Edge  _ about? It sounds dangerous.”

“Dangerously lame,” Nicole mutters.

Waverly elbows her gently. “The review in the paper said it’s about an ex-Olympian figure skater who needs a partner and she finally finds one, but he’s an ex-Olympic hockey player.”

“And it’s a  _ romance _ ,” Nicole adds

“Oh, that sounds good,” her mom says.

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You two go, then.” She runs her hand over Waverly’s shoulder, catching a lock of hair and wrapping it around her finger. She leans in closer, her lips brushing against the shell of Waverly’s ear. “Just promise that if it’s totally brutal, we can make out in the back of the theater,” she whispers.

Waverly shudders, her cheeks flushing red.

“I’m so sorry, Waverly,” her mom says. Waverly and Nicole both jump. “Did you want some coffee?”

“That’d be great,” Waverly breathes out. “Gus doesn’t make much anymore because Wynonna is in and out and she just drinks her morning cup at The Patch.”

Her mom busies herself with the coffee pot and fills a heavy, white coffee mug. Waverly turns back to Nicole, smiling softly. Her mom reach between them, putting the mug down on the table in front of Waverly.

“Here you go, honey,” her mom says. “Just a little bit of sugar, right?”

Waverly takes the cup in both hands, holding it close to her chest. “Right, Mrs. Haught. That’s perfect.”

“None of the ‘Mrs. Haught’ stuff,” her mom says. “It’s Joan.” She laughs. “My goodness, it’s been, what?” She turns back to the stove, grabbing a spatula from the canister on the counter. She shakes it at Waverly. “It’s been almost thirteen years, hasn’t it?”

Waverly smiles. “Feels like longer,” she says quietly, one of her hands dropping to Nicole’s arm on the table. She flushes. “Are you making the potatoes with the onions?” she asks hopefully.

Her mom grins. “For you, sure.”

Nicole scoffs. “She doesn’t even make those for me,” she grumbles.

“And Gus doesn’t make me sugar pie unless she’s making it for you, so we’re even,” Waverly fires back without looking at Nicole. She’s still smiling at Nicole’s mom.

Nicole rolls her eyes and stretches her arms above her head, her eyes closed. She feels Waverly’s fingertips ghost across the skin between the top of her shorts and the bottom of her shirt. She shivers and doubles over, trapping Waverly’s hand. From here, she can see the hole in her sock even better, and she realizes her entire big toe is sticking out.

“I’m gonna jet upstairs and get dressed,” she says. She takes another sip of her coffee and pushes it into the middle of the table.

“I’ll come with,” Waverly says, standing up. “If that’s okay?”

Her mom waves the spatula at them again. “Eggs won’t even be ready to go into the pan until the potatoes are nearly done. Go, get dressed.” She narrows her eyes at Nicole. “And make sure your brother is sleeping off whatever hangover he’s going to end up with.”

“I’m not his keeper,” she says under her breath. She reaches back blindly and finds Waverly’s wrist, curling her fingers around it and tugging gently. “Be back in two shakes,” she promises.

Her mom ignores her, reaching over and turning the radio up.

“ _ I think there's something you should know _ ,” George Michael sings. “ _ I think it's time I told you so. There's something deep inside of me. There's someone else I've got to be _ .” 

“ _ Take back your picture in a frame, take back your singing in the rain _ ,” her mom sings along.

Her mom fades out as Nicole pulls Waverly through the living room, around the couch, and up the stairs. She can hear Pearl Jam coming out of Nathan’s room. She shakes her head as she hears the bass guitar. 

“ _ How could I forget? And he hit me with a surprise left, my jaw left hurting. Dropped wide open, just like the day, oh, like the day I heard… _ ”

He’s listening to “Jeremy” again. For the 9,375th time this month.

“I think he made a tape with ‘Jeremy’ just on repeat,” she mutters to Waverly, pulling her past Nathan’s door. “Every time he turns on his damn radio, he’s listening to ‘Jeremy’ again.”

Waverly wrinkles her nose.

They slip into her room and Nicole shuts the door behind them, backing Waverly up slowly against the wood. “Hey,” she breathes out.

“Hey,” Waverly echoes.

Nicole smiles. “Hey.”

“You said that already,” Waverly points out. Her coffee cup pushes uncomfortably against Nicole’s stomach, so she takes it and leans to the side, putting it on the edge of her desk. “I didn’t come up here for this,” Waverly murmurs against Nicole’s lips.

Nicole smiles. “Are you sure?” She flattens her palm against the warm skin beneath Waverly’s crop top. She brushes her thumb across the spot that she knows makes Waverly twitch, grinning widely when Waverly squeals and presses up against her.

“You hoser,” Waverly says, trying to swat Nicole’s hands away.

Nicole digs her fingers in, feeling Waverly’s ribs under her touch.

Waverly laughs, and the noise in the rest of the house fades away. She can’t hear “Jeremy” from down the hall. She can’t hear George Michael downstairs. She can only hear Waverly, laughing loudly in her ear and something that sounds like Journey, maybe, if she listens hard enough to the spaces in between Waverly’s laugh, when she tries to catch her breath.

Waverly pinches her side and Nicole yelps, jumping back a few steps. The back of her knees hit the bed and she nearly falls, catching herself before she does.

“Ouch,” Nicole complains, rubbing at her side.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “You big baby.”

Nicole drops down onto her bed, pressing her hand over her heart. “Ouch,” she repeats.

Waverly snorts and picks her coffee up, taking a sip as she looks around the room. “What do you think about me going blonde?” she asks.

Nicole shakes her head quickly. “No.”

Waverly looks at her, an eyebrow raised in surprise. “No?”

“You don’t need my permission,” Nicole says. “But, like. If this is being put to a vote? No.”

Waverly nods at the posters on the wall, the ones that have been there for years. There’s Debbie Harry and Patty Smyth and Stevie Nicks and Nancy Wilson from Heart.

“They’re all blonde,” Waverly points out. “And you like them.”

Nicole stands up, wrapping her arms around Waverly’s waist and resting her chin on the top of Waverly’s head. “But remember who my first love was?”

Waverly turns in her arms, her eyes soft. “Me,” she breathes out.

“Alyssa Milano,” Nicole corrects. She nods at the 8x10 picture hanging on the corkboard above her desk.

Waverly’s mouth drops open.

Nicole kisses Waverly on the side of the head and untangles herself from Waverly’s hold, heading towards her dresser.

“You… You  _ bitch _ ,” Waverly finally says.

Nicole grins back at her over her shoulder. “I was serious about saving myself for her,” she says casually. “You just gave me a better offer before she finally realized we were right for each other.”

Waverly lazily flips her off. 

“Her loss,” Nicole continues. “I’m a babe.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and sits down on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hand across the comforter. “What are you going to wear today?”

Nicole shrugs, turning back to her drawer. “I don’t know. Maybe a-”

“White undershirt, flannel, and jeans,” Waverly finishes.

Nicole glares at Waverly. “Why did you ask if you already knew?”

Waverly shrugs. “I like that face you make when you get annoyed with me. Your nose gets all…” She trails off, wrinkling her own nose at Nicole.

Nicole instantly relaxes her face. “I don’t do that.” 

“You do,” Waverly insists. “You did it a lot in high school.”

“You annoyed me a lot in high school,” Nicole fires back.

“You loved me a lot in high school.”

“I love you more now,” Nicole says. She shrugs when Waverly’s eyes soften, a small smile tugging at Waverly’s lips. 

Nicole turns back to her dresser and pulls a white undershirt out of her drawer, tossing it over her shoulder blindly and laughing when she hears Waverly squeal. She moves around her room, finding a pair of socks and then opening her closet door, grabbing a pair of jeans and her red and black flannel. She pulls her Ratt shirt over her head, tossing it towards the basket near the windows with all over her other dirty clothes.

“Damn skippy,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole feels her face flush, the heat spreading down her neck and across her chest. She shrugs. “It’s not-”

“I can’t wait until they come up with a way to see the person you’re talking to on the phone,” Waverly continues. “So we can talk all the time but, like,  _ see _ each other. Because I… I  _ missed _ this.”

Nicole inhales sharply. “They won’t come up with something like that,” she mumbles.

“I’ll invent it myself,” Waverly vows. “If this is what I’m missing, hundred of miles away, then I’ll figure out a way to do it.”

Nicole rolls her eyes, ducking her head. She reaches for her white undershirt, pulling it over her head. Waverly sighs, disappointed, but leans back on her elbows, reclining on Nicole’s bed. Nicole looks up at Waverly through her eyelashes, self-conscious and unsure of why. 

They saw each other last night, when Waverly got back into Purgatory. Gus had picked her up from the bus station in Edmonton because Nicole had switched shifts with Diaz a month ago so he could go to his nephew’s karate ranking up ceremony. Nicole had finally gotten to the McCreadys’ late at night, peeling off her uniform and hanging it up on the back of Waverly’s door. She slid into Waverly’s bed, her hands ghosting over skin she hadn’t touched in nearly three months, her lips moving along Waverly’s jawline.

She stretches one arm out, rolling the sleeve of her shirt up carefully. She chews on her bottom lip, drawing her eyebrows in as she concentrates. She looks up after a second and Waverly’s mouth is parted, hanging open slightly, her eyes following Nicole’s hands.

Nicole swallows heavily, stretching her other arm out and using her other hand to roll her sleeves up. She slowly picks up her flannel, pulling it on one am at a time. It stretches tight across her shoulders as she starts rolling the sleeves up. She straightens the cuff out.

Waverly wets her bottom lip.

Her fingers feel clumsy as she goes to roll the second sleeve. She has to unroll an inch and try a second time, her throat dry and the back of her neck burning hot.

She slides out of the shorts she’s wearing, her eyes still locked on Waverly. There’s goosebumps on her legs as she steps into her jeans and tucks her white shirt in before she buttons them and zips them. She lifts her foot, resting it on the edge of the bed.

“You’re good at that,” Waverly says softly.

Nicole looks up, her foot on her bed for leverage as she cuffs the leg of her pants. She smiles crookedly.

Waverly crooks her finger and gestures for Nicole to come closer. 

“Nicole!” her mom calls from the bottom of the stairs, her voice muffled by the bedroom door. “Wynonna is on the phone!”

Nicole pauses, one knee on the bed, and sighs. “Wynonna.”

“Always interrupting everything,” Waverly growls.

“Even a thousand miles away.” She offers Waverly a hand, pulling her off the bed and onto her feet. She kisses Waverly softly, biting down gently on her bottom lip. “Later,” she promises.

Waverly’s eyes flutter as Nicole pulls away. “Later,” she echoes. She grabs her coffee and holds it close to her body.

When they go past Nathan’s door, Nicole listens, but the music is quiet and she can only hear him snoring. She feels Waverly’s hand slip into her own and squeeze softly. She smiles at Waverly over her shoulder.

Her mom is dumping the potatoes and onions into a serving dish when they get into the kitchen, the phone off the hook and on the counter. Waverly takes the serving dish from her mom and puts it on the table, moving around the kitchen easily, collecting silverware and setting the table.

“What?” Nicole barks into the phone.

She hears Wynonna snort on the other end of the line. “It’s been  _ years _ since I’ve seen you and-”

“Almost a month,” Nicole corrects.

“ _ And _ ,” Wynonna says over her. “That’s how you greet me?”

“I could still hang up,” Nicole offers.

Wynonna sighs on the other end of the line. Nicole can picture her, in a phone booth in Wherever, Canada, with her head against the glass and a bunch of motorcycles idling nearby. 

“What’s wrong?” Nicole asks.

Waverly’s head snaps up. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Wynonna starts.

“It’s nothing,” Nicole parrots, looking at Waverly. “But she’s lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Wynonna says defensively.

“She’s lying,” Nicole repeats, still looking at Waverly. “What happened?” she asks Wynonna.

Wynonna sighs again and mumbles something Nicole doesn’t catch.

“What?” Waverly asks.

“What?” Nicole repeats.

“I said,” Wynonna starts, clearing her throat. “My bike broke down.”

Nicole cups her hand over the receiver. “Her bike broke down.”

Waverly takes the cup Nicole’s mom hands her. “Is she hurt?”

Nicole drops her hand from the receiver. “Are you-” Nicole pulls the phone away from her mouth again. “Do you just want to talk to her?”

Waverly shakes her head. “I’m setting the table,” she says slowly, as if Nicole hadn’t noticed. 

Nicole takes a slow, steadying breath before pulling the receiver back to her mouth. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Wynonna says. “See, what happened was, I parked at a roadside diner, right? They had  _ pancakes _ and this maple syrup that-”

“Wynonna,” Nicole warns.

“Anyway,” Wynonna says over her. “Some guy in a transport was giving the waitress a hard time and a few of us told him to knock it off, right? Well, he didn’t, so I had to show him how to keep his hands to himself.”

Nicole sighs. “Wynonna.”

“No, no. I was  _ defending  _ her honor,” Wynonna insists. “I’m sitting there, watching him put his mitts all over her, and I thought to myself, ‘ _ what would Nicole do _ ?’”

Nicole feels something in chest flutter. “You didn’t think that,” she says, heat spreading across her cheeks.

“I  _ did _ ,” Wynonna insists. “And so I decked him.” She pauses. “My bike got totaled when he ran it over with his transport.” She snorts. “You can tell Waverly that. I’ll wait.”

Nicole sighs again, rubbing at the back of her neck.

Waverly straightens up. “What? What is it?”

“Wynonna... “ Nicole shakes her head. “Wynonna got into a fight with a transport driver and he ran over her motorcycle.”

“Don’t forget to tell her the part where I thought,  _ ‘what would Nicole do? _ ’” Wynonna shouts in her ear.

“Apparently, she thought that it’s what I would do,” Nicole translates.

“She’s not wrong, is she?” Nicole’s mom says as she puts a pan of eggs on the table. “Tell Wynonna we’re all proud of her.”

“Thanks, Joan,” Wynonna replies loudly. “So, I’m taking the bus and coming home. It’s leaving Churchill in a few hours, so I should be in Edmonton by the middle of the week. Can you pick me up?”

“You want me to drive all the way to Edmonton in the middle of the week?” Nicole asks.

Wynonna lowers her voice. “I can’t ask Gus. She’ll be pissed I wrecked another bike.”

Nicole sighs, knowing Wynonna isn’t lying. “Fine,” she says. “Call me when you get closer to Edmonton so I can come get you.”

Waverly grabs the phone. “You’re coming home?”

Nicole shakes her head and sits down at the table, grabbing her now-cold coffee and finishing it off while Waverly squeals excitedly.

“You’re coming home! This is so great. Okay,” she says, her voice dropping low as she grows serious. “We  _ have _ to have sister night. No, Nicole can’t come.” She looks at Nicole and mouths  _ sorry _ . “We can listen to that new Sir Mix-a-Lot album! Eliza let me borrow-  _ No,  _ I didn’t tell Nicole you like that song,” she says, winking at Nicole. “It doesn’t matter! You’re coming home!” She looks at Nicole again, just as Nicole’s mom puts the last plate of toast on the table. “But I have to go, we’re eating. I’ll see you this week,” she says, smiling widely.

She hangs up the phone and takes the seat next to Nicole. “She’s coming home.” Her eyes widen. “ _ Oh _ . We’ll have to go over the whole schedule again. Everything needs to be moved around.”

Nicole groans and her shoulders drop. “Pass me the potatoes,” she mutters. “And I’m going to need more coffee.”

 

-

Nicole opens her brown bag lunch to grab the last snack when a note flutters out and lands on her desk. She frowns, dropping the plastic baggie of pretzels and picking up the note. She unfolds it and smoothes it out on her desk, groaning when she sees the drawing of the ice skate and the hockey stick.

_ 7pm _ , it says in Waverly’s handwriting, all bubble letters and hearts over the i’s.  _ The Colonial Theater _ .

Nicole rolls her eyes and folds the note back up, sliding it into the top desk drawer. 

“Like I could forget,” she mutters to herself. Waverly had been reminding her all week. This morning, she had handed Nicole the lunch she made, fishing through the Haught’s kitchen for the things to make a fluffernutter sandwich, and she must have snuck the note in when Nicole went outside to move Nathan’s car, parked haphazardly in the driveway.

She picks her bag of pretzels up again, opening it and taking out a handful. She pops one pretzel into her mouth as she looks back at the computer screen. She’s entering her parking tickets for the week into the CPIC database, painstakingly typing up each physical ticket in her book.

Just ten more tickets and then it’s nothing but her and the clock, counting down until 1700, when she can leave.

Linda whirls around at the counter, her headset on. “I’ve got a possible 10-31,” she calls out.

Nicole sits up at the prospect of a crime in progress. The last 10-31 she went out on turned out to be Old Hank Harris trying to get back into his house through the basement window after his wife kicked him out. Nedley had gone for a ride-along, tapping the edge of her window with his hand to the beat of Styx’s “Renegade” playing softly in the tape deck, instructing her on how to handle victims of a crime.

“They need compassion, not judgement,” he lectured. “You hear me? I don’t want you bulldozing your way in there, telling people they should have locked their doors or kept their guns by their beds.” 

Nicole nodded firmly.

“We’re there to collect evidence, take statements, and be sympathetic. This is the worst day of their lives,” he continued.

It turned out that it  _ was _ the worst day of Harris’ life; his wife kicked him out in his underwear and his knee socks. 

“Mrs. Dray is calling to report trespassers on her property,” Linda continues.

The whole bullpen groans. Lonnie boos.

Linda glares at them, her eyes sweeping the bullpen. “One of you knuckleheads better get out there.”

Pine points across his desk at Nicole. “You’re up, Rookie.”

Nicole groans. “I’m not the rookie,” she points out. “I’ve been here almost two years.”

Pine shrugs, a small smile on his face. “You’re still the newest hire, kid. And the rookie gets Mrs. Dray’s calls. So, get a move on.”

Nicole can feel Linda’s eyes on her and she stands up reluctantly. She jabs her finger in Pine’s direction. “For that, I’m not giving you the last donut.”

Lonnie burps. “I already ate it.”

“Lonnie,” she groans. She grabs her hat and her jacket, pulling it on and grabbing the keys to her cruiser. She tips her head at Linda as she passes the counter. “Won’t be long,” she calls. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“We  _ know _ ,” the whole bullpen groans.

It’s an easy drive to Mrs. Dray’s house. Nicole rides with the windows down and Def Leppard in the cassette player. It takes all of “Personal Property” and half of “Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad” for her to get from the station parking lot to Mrs. Dray’s driveway. She pulls in, frowning as she sees the Purgatory Animal Control 1987 Dodge Ram Van parked on the street.

“This is Officer Haught,” she calls into her radio. “10-23.”

“On the scene in less than five minutes, Haught,” Linda says. “Color me impressed.”

Nicole snorts. “Animal Control is here, too,” she says. “Stand by.”

“10-4,” Linda fires back.

Nicole turns her cruiser off, pocketing her keys and adjusting her hat on her head. 

Mrs. Dray is on the front porch, her Winchester 9422 across her lap. She’s glaring at the PAC van. Nicole looks over her shoulder as she climbs the steps and sees Kyle and Pete York leaning against the back panel of the van. She sighs when she notices Pete’s uniform shirt, a near replica of her own PSD shirt, is untucked and wrinkled. From here, she thinks Kyle’s fly is unzipped.

“I want to file a trespassing report,” Mrs. Dray says as soon as Nicole is on the porch.

Nicole swallows against the initial surge of frustration in her throat. “We had reports of a crime in progress?” She takes her notebook out of her front pocket and flips to a clean page, noting the time on her Casio F-91W. She jots it down at the top of the page for her report later.

“Those  _ hooligans _ were trespassing on my private property.” Mrs. Dray swings her Winchester around, jabbing it in Kyle and Pete’s direction.

Kyle shouts and ducks. Pete stumbles backwards, the net he’s holding thudding against the side of the van.

“Mrs. Dray,” Nicole says calmly. “I’m going to need you to put that down, please.”

Mrs. Dray aims the barrel at the porch floor. “Oh, it’s not loaded,” she says, her voice a whisper. “But they don’t need to know that.”

Nicole gestures for the gun. “Do you mind if I check?”

Mrs. Dray hands over the rifle easily. 

Nicole places the hammer into the safety position,  and aims it upward. She slides the inner magazine tube out and then tips the gun down, waiting for the telltale sound of cartridges sliding down the metal tube and onto the porch. Nothing happens. She slides the magazine tube back inside and then presses the finger lever, opening the action and looking inside. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Dray peers up at Nicole through her glasses, as if seeing her for the first time. “You’re Joan Haught’s girl.”

Nicole puffs her chest out slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You came the last time I called the station.”

Nicole nods. “You said your neighbor-”

“Mortimer,” Mrs. Dray spits.

“Mr. Mortimer,” Nicole repeats. “Yes. You said he was tampering with your trash cans.”

Mrs. Dray’s eyes drift away from Nicole, across the street to a small blue house. “Thief,” she mutters. “Did you ever get him to confess?”

Nicole takes her hat off and rests it gently on the edge of the porch railing. “He was very adamant that he had not tampered with your trash cans.” She clears her throat. “But, can you tell me why you called to report a crime in progress, Mrs. Dray?”

Mrs. Dray’s arm twitches, like she wants to lift her Winchester and point it at Kyle and Pete again. Instead, she nods her head in their direction and scowls. “Those two were in my backyard, sliding through the grass like snakes about to rob me.”

“Haught!” Pete yells. “She’s crazy.”

Nicole turns slowly, her eyes hard and her mouth pressed in a thin line. “Mr. York,” she says, her voice hard and angry. “I will be with you in a minute. Until then, keep your comments to yourself.”

Pete shrinks back against the van. 

Nicole’s jaw clicks as she turns back to Mrs. Dray. She feels her shoulders loosen and she smiles encouragingly. “Go ahead, Mrs. Dray.”

Mrs. Dray stares at her for a moment before beginning again. “I was in the kitchen getting myself some tea. I looked out the back window and those two were in my backyard, rooting through the trees and under my back porch.”

Nicole sighs, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Were you aware of their presence before you saw them?”

“No,” Mrs. Dray says. “If I had been, I wouldn’t have called the police.”

Nicole writes that down. She pushes a little too hard with her pen and the page tears slightly. She nods and looks up at Mrs. Dray. “I’m going to go talk to them, and I’ll come back up here and we’ll see what you’d like to do.”

“I want them arrested,” Mrs. Dray grumbles. “Give an old woman a heart attack, they would.”

Nicole picks her hat up, settling it back on her head. She tips it in Mrs. Dray’s direction and marches down the steps and across the front lawn.

“Haught,” Pete starts as soon as she’s close enough. “There’s a rabid raccoon under that back porch and that-”

Nicole holds up a hand. “It’s  _ Officer _ Haught,” she corrects.

Kyle rolls his eyes.

Nicole glares at him. “Tell me you two knocked on this woman’s door and told her you were chasing a rabid raccoon through her yard.”

Pete looks down at his department-issue boots and kicks at the curb.

Nicole groans. “You  _ guys _ .”

Kyle crosses his arms over his chest. “Listen. We were  _ this _ close to catching that raccoon,” he says, pinching his pointer finger and thumb together. “I’ve been chasing this thing for  _ weeks _ and I didn’t have time to knock on Oscar the Grouch’s door to-”

“Mrs. Dray is a citizen of Purgatory, and you will talk about her in front of me as such,” Nicole says firmly. She scribbles down a note to check in with Kyle and Pete’s boss, Jay Loit. She shakes her head. “You guys know that I have to offer her the right to press charges. Municipal Works employees or not.”

Kyle rolls his eyes again. “Of course you do, Five-O.” He scoffs. “You’re such a square.”

“ _ Trespassing _ is against the law, Kyle.”

He jabs his finger in her direction. She resists the urge to take a step back. “You know, if Champ was a roller, we wouldn’t have you breathing down our necks.”

“Too bad he busted his knee,” Pete chimes in.

Nicole tips her head to the side. “What?”

Pete nods, his face twisted in sympathy. “Oh, yeah. He blew it on the circuit. He’s back in town.”

“Huh,” Nicole says. “I hadn’t heard.”  _ Chrissy must not know yet _ , Nicole thinks.  _ Or she would have said something _ .

Kyle sneers. “Just write us a ticket or get out of our way, would you? That raccoon has a date with destiny.”

Nicole shakes her head. “It’s private property, and if you’re not invited onto it, you don’t get to be there. Even if you are waging some personal war with a raccoon.” She turns on her heel and walks back across the lawn, pointedly ignoring Kyle muttering under his breath. She lifts her hand to catch Mrs. Dray’s attention.

“Well. What do they want?” Mrs. Dray asks.

Nicole takes her hat off again. “They’re chasing a rabid raccoon that seems to have taken up residence underneath your back porch. They should have informed you of this and asked permission to pursue the animal.”

Mrs. Dray rocks her chair forward slowly. It creaks against the old wooden boards beneath it. “Damn right they should have.”

“You are free to press charges,” Nicole offers.

Mrs. Dray purses her lips and looks across the lawn at Pete and Kyle. “No,” she says after a minute. “But I want a promise that they’ll never come back over here.”

Nicole nods slowly. “I can do that,” she says. “But if you want to press charges-”

Mrs. Dray waves a hand at her. “No, no. I see the hunger in that boy’s eyes,” she says, gesturing to Kyle. “He wants that raccoon, doesn’t he?”

Nicole does her best to stop from smiling. “Yes, ma’am,” she says simply.

Mrs. Dray snorts. “Well, that’ll be punishment enough, I suppose.” She squints, looking up at Nicole. “I like you.”

Nicole ducks her head a little. “Well, thank you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Dray pushes up out of her rocking chair, using her Winchester as leverage. She hobbles past Nicole, patting her on the shoulder. “Next time I’m having trouble, I’ll be sure to tell that Linda to send you out here.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “Oh. Well.”

Nedley’s voice is in her head:  _ Be kind, Haught. Be considerate.  _

She swallows heavily. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s nice of you.”

Mrs. Dray nods at her. “If those boys come back, I’ll be sure to call you.”

“ _ Clutch _ ,” Nicole mutters under her breath. She walks back to her cruiser, her shoulders straight. She can feel Kyle and Pete staring at her. She pulls the car door open just as Mrs. Dray’s front door closes.

“So, what did she say?” Kyle asks eagerly, crossing the lawn.

Nicole pauses with her hand on the door, one foot in the cruiser. “She’s not pressing charges.”

Pete grins. “I knew she wouldn’t.”

“ _ But _ ,” Nicole continues. “She’s also requesting you leave her property. Immediately. And you don’t come back.”

Kyle’s mouth drops open. “But… But the  _ raccoon _ .”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder, the corner of her mouth twitching as she fights a smile. “I think she said she was going to name it Hebert and offer it her old newspapers.” She pauses. “Hey, isn’t that your middle name?”

“You’re lucky you’re in that uniform, Haught,” Kyle hisses. “Because if you weren’t, I would-”

Nicole sets her jaw. “Are you threatening an officer, Mr. York?”

Kyle snaps his mouth closed. He glares at her for a minute before he turns and storms back towards the van. He shoulders Pete on his way by. Pete stumbles back a few steps, rubbing at his arm. “Let’s  _ motor _ , Pete.”

Pete sighs and jogs to catch up to Kyle.

Nicole shakes her head and slides into her cruiser, putting her hat on the passenger seat. She pulls her notebook out of her pocket and writes down the time on the clock. It’s 1620 now. 

_ Perfect _ , she thinks.  _ I’ll have just enough time to get back to the station, write up a report, and get home to change _ . She reaches for her radio.

“Linda,” she calls.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

“Go ‘head, Haught.”

“10-24,” she says. “I’m all set here. I’m heading back to the station.”

“10-4,” Linda says through the static. “See you back here.”

Nicole hangs her radio back up and grabs the metal clipboard in her passenger seat, filling out some preliminary details from the call. When she’s satisfied, she turns her cruiser on, Def Leppard picking up where they left off.

“ _ You must be some kinda drug _ ,” Joe Elliott sings. “ _ And if my time don't ever come, for me you're still the one. Damned if I don't, damned if I do. I gotta get a fix on you. _ ”

She gets back to the station in two songs, tapping out the rhythm against the steering wheel. She pulls her cruiser in next to the empty space - reserved for the new cruiser Nedley keeps saying they’re going to get.

Linda sighs as she walks through the front door. “Mrs. Dray called.”

“ _ Again _ ?” Nicole’s shoulders slump. “I  _ just _ left.”

Linda shakes her head. “She called to compliment you, Haught. Said you’re the best Purgatory Sheriff’s Department Officer she’s met so far. And then she proceeded to tell me the names of all the ones she didn’t like.”

“Woman hates me,” Lonnie mutters as he walks by.

Linda snorts. “He was at the top of her list.”

Nicole rolls her eyes, watching Lonnie try and sit down in his chair and nearly miss. “I wonder why.”

Pine looks up from his Commodore 128 computer. “So, what did she want? Was there really a crime in progress?”

Nicole shakes her head, sitting down at her desk. She brushes her fingertips against the corner of the framed picture on her desk - her and Waverly and Wynonna at The Patch when they were younger.  _ I need to update these _ , she thinks to herself.

“Unless you consider Kyle and Pete York working for Purgatory a crime,” she mutters.

Pine makes a face. “What were those two doing?”

“They were chasing a raccoon,” Nicole says. “And they chased it into Mrs. Dray’s yard and started slithering around in the grass  _ without _ telling her.”

Landry groans. “Those boys are going to get themselves in trouble.”

Nicole sighs and scrubs her hand down over her face. “She’s not pressing charges,  _ today _ ,” she stresses. “But that raccoon is under her back porch and she won’t let them go near it.”

Landry snorts. “She’s feisty,” he admits.

“She  _ intentionally _ won’t let them near it,” Nicole repeats, a hint of awe in her voice. “The look on Kyle’s face…” She shakes her head again. “I’m going to write my report. Is there any coffee left?”

Landry shakes his head. “Lonnie,” he says.

Nicole groans. She pulls the preliminary field report out of her pocket and smoothes it out on the desk. She sings “Another One Bites The Dust” as she transfers information from her preliminary report to the official document that’ll go into the filing cabinet. She makes a note to call Kyle and Pete’s boss in the morning; no one is in the Municipal Works Department after 1600. 

She writes it on one of the Post-Its Waverly got her when she first started her job.  _ It’s a piece of paper that sticks to things,  _ Waverly had squealed.  _ Do you know how much I can do now _ ?

As she gets to the bottom of the page, Nicole groans and stretches her arms over her head, wincing as her shoulder pops. She checks the clock and jumps a little. She starts stacking the papers on her desk into ‘done’ and ‘to do’ piles, placing them in different baskets in the corner of her desk. She caps her pen and drops it in her pen holder. She takes her stapler and her tape dispenser and puts them in the top left drawer.

Pine leans back in his seat across from her.

“I’ve gotta go,” she says, watching as the minute goes from :59 to :00. “I’ve got-”

“ _ A date _ ,” Pine, Lonnie, Diaz, and Landry shout.

“We  _ know _ ,” Landry says, smiling. “Now, get out of here so I don’t have to hear about it for the hundredth time. Ninety-nine is more than enough.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and pulls the keys to her Bonneville out of her desk drawer, slinging them around in a circle on her finger. “Don’t be jealous, boys.”

“I’m just waiting until Waverly goes back to school and you go back to mooning over her picture on your desk,” Diaz says. 

Nicole scowls. “I don’t do that.”

“And Lonnie washes his socks more than once a week,” Pine says, snorting.

Nicole scoffs. “Bag your face,” she mutters, grinning at them.

“Tell Waverly we love her,” Pine calls.

“Give her a kiss for us,” Landry says.

“Sing a line of ‘Faithfully’ for us,” Diaz adds. 

Nicole pulls her jacket on and starts towards the door. She waits until Linda turns back to the desk and then she flips them all off.

She can still hear Landry laughing when as the station door closes behind her.

 

-

Nicole coasts the last few feet into a parking spot at the Colonial Theater on Main Street. She checks the dashboard clock and swears under her breath. Only five minutes until the movie starts and she’s sure Waverly is getting impatient now.

Getting out of the house had been harder than Nicole thought it would be. Nathan was asleep on the couch, half-empty beer bottles scattered on the coffee table. One had fallen over and was slowly dripping onto the carpet. Nicole had changed out of her uniform and then gone back downstairs in a pair of old clothes. She grabbed him around the waist and heaved him up and onto his feet. It took her a few minutes but she managed to get him into the tub, and then she turned the showerhead on.

He woke up with a start, screaming and cursing and slipping on the slick bottom of the tub. His clothes stuck to his skin and his hair was plastered to his forehead.

“Mom will be home in twenty minutes,” she said, her voice flat. “Make sure you clean the coffee table off.”

She checks her reflection in the window of the hardware store next to the theater, the big marquee sign giving her enough light to see that her shirt is a little wrinkled at the hemline. She frowns and tries to smooth it out, but she catches sight of her watch as she reaches up, and she changes her mind.

The Colonial Theater has been in Purgatory for as long as Nicole can remember. Her mom used to tell her stories about saving up her allowance for a few weeks and then going down to the theater to catch a movie. It still has the same marquee sign out front where they list the movies that are playing, and the same burgundy carpet in the lobby. It has high, rounded ceilings and original crown molding.

Nicole has heard Waverly talk about the architecture of the building more times than she can count.

She pulls open the heavy front doors and scans the lobby. She spots Waverly against the wall, near the snack shop, standing in front of the posters lining the walls. She’s looking at a ‘COMING SOON’ poster, for something called  _ Love Potion No. 9 _ . There’s a bucket of popcorn at her feet and a large soda cup in her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Nicole says as soon as she’s close enough.

Waverly’s forehead is lined with wrinkles as turns. She’s frowning. “I’ve been here since-”

“Nathan,” is all Nicole can say.

The lines on Waverly’s forehead melt away. “Is he okay?”

Nicole opens her mouth, but snaps it closed and shakes her head.

Waverly’s hand rests on her arm, her grip warm and comforting. “We can go home, if you want.”

Nicole shakes her head, curling her hand around Waverly’s waist and pulling her close. Waverly fits against her side, her chin resting against Nicole’s shoulder. Nicole turns her head and presses her lips to Waverly’s forehead. She lets her eyes close as Waverly’s fingers graze against her stomach and settle on her hip.

“Okay,” she says after a minute. “We can’t miss the previews. They’re the-”

“Best part of the movie,” Waverly interrupts. She rolls her eyes. “You’re so predictable.”

Nicole elbows Waverly gently, untangling herself from Waverly’s arms. She immediately reaches for Waverly’s hand, lacing their fingers together. She reaches down with her other hand and picks up the bucket of popcorn. “I prefer to call it  _ constant _ .”

Waverly snorts and steps away from Nicole, tugging her towards the long hallway leading to the individual theaters. “I already got tickets,” she says. “We’re in 3.”

Nicole groans. “I  _ hate _ 3,” she complains, dragging her feet. “The seats are all busted and everywhere you sit, there’s a spring right up your-”

Waverly lunges forward and claps her hand down on Nicole’s mouth, smiling widely at the group of kids skipping past them and into Theater 2.  _ The Great Mouse Detective _ , the sign says. 

“ _ Butt _ ,” Nicole says when Waverly lets go. “I was going to say ‘butt’.”

Waverly lifts an eyebrow, unconvinced. She tips her head down the hall. “Come on. If we miss anything, I’m going to make you come back.”

Nicole lets Waverly lead her down the dimly lit hall and into Theater 3. The overhead lights are still burning and the screen is still black. There’s barely anyone in the theater and Nicole sighs; if the movie sucks, at least Nicole has a better chance of sneaking a few kisses than if the place was full. Waverly starts towards the back of the theater, picking a seat closer to the wall. 

Waverly leans into her side when they sit down, smiling up at Nicole as she burrows closer.

Nicole checks her watch; they still have a minute until the lights go down and the projector goes on behind them. The door bangs open and a few high school-age kids stumble in, laughing and passing a box of Cow Tales back and forth. They sit towards the front. A middle-age couple comes in a few seconds later, sitting closer to the teenagers.

“This looks promising,” Nicole mutters in Waverly’s ear.

Waverly elbows her softly. “Don’t be a hoser.”

“I’m not a-”

The lights dim, cutting Nicole off. She hears the projector start up somewhere over her left shoulder - the soft ticking sound as the motor kicks on. The screen comes to life, blue and red and yellow lines moving across it as the words ‘ _ Coming Soon _ ’ build and focus.

The first preview is for  _ Beethoven.  _

“Throughout the history of motion pictures, there have been many big dog stars,” the narrator starts. “Toto had a big adventure. Petie had a big appetite. Rin-Tin-Tin was a big hero, and Lassie had a big heart. But now, Ivan Reitman, who brought you  _ Ghostbusters, Kindergarten Cop,  _ and  _ Twins _ , proudly presents the biggest dog star of them all.”

Waverly laughs as the huge Saint Bernard, Beethoven, shakes. “We are  _ never _ getting a dog that big,” she tells Nicole.

Nicole feels a soft flutter somewhere in her stomach. “You want a dog?”

“Someday,” Waverly says without looking back. She laughs again, watching as Beethoven pulls his leash, catching two people in suits and dragging them through the grass. “Don’t you?”

Nicole shrugs, her movement shifting Waverly in her seat. “It’d have to be the right dog,” she says.

Waverly turns a little. “What dog would be the ‘right’ dog?”

Nicole shrugs again. “I’ll know when I know.”

Waverly rolls her eyes in the light from the movie screen and settles back against her.

The next preview is for  _ Poison Ivy _ , coming out in May. Nicole liked her in  _ Firestarter _ , but the trailer leaves her squirming in her seat and she definitely won’t be able to watch  _ Roseanne _ after this.

“Now  _ this _ is clutch,” she whispers in Waverly’s ear when the third trailer starts.

“I’m thinking we should cut the blue wire,” Mel Gibson says.

“Wait!” Danny Glover yells.

“What?”

Danny Glover jabs his finger against his own chest. “That’s not what I’m thinking.”

She watches the rest of the  _ Lethal Weapon 3 _ trailer breathlessly. 

“Back to bed, back to bed,” Gibson chants as the trailer ends.

Nicole nods. “I want to see  _ that _ .”

“Of course you do,” Waverly murmurs. 

The dimmed lights turn off entirely, casting their corner of the theater in complete darkness. The opening title card starts to come into view on the screen and Nicole sighs. She checks her watch, pressing the side button to light up the display.

She silently decides to give the movie twenty minutes before she tries to convince Waverly to take off.

As the movie starts, Nicole shivers a little. The sound of blades slicing through ice still cuts through her as much as it did the last time she was on skates.

Curtis came home from The Patch one night in January, tossing the mail on the coffee table with a grin on his face.

Wynonna had scrambled to get to the mail before Waverly, pulling the  _ Rolling Stones _ issue out and holding it close to her chest. Waverly huffed and sat back down on the floor, picking up her playing cards and scowling at Wynonna.

“Go fish,” Nicole repeated.

Wynonna groaned. “The first issue of 1985 and they put  _ Hall and bagging Oates _ on the cover.”

“Language!” Gus called from the kitchen.

Curtis blew into his hands, warming them. It was cold, practically freezing outside. His face was stretched wide in a smile and he kept his coat on. “Gus, get over here!”

Gus walked down the hall, a mixing spoon in her hand. “What is it?”

Curtis looked at them excitedly. “How do you girls feel about ice skating?”

Waverly laughs as the half-dressed blonde woman in bed shouts “ _ Gita!” _ over and over again. Nicole blinks and looks at the screen as a half-naked man looks for his clothes. He starts running down a ramp, a large hockey bag over his shoulder.

“Name, son?” a cop yells.

The man running doesn’t slow down. “Dorsey, U.S. Hockey.”

“Hell, son, they're just about to start!” the cop shouts back.

“This is a terrible idea,” Gus said, standing on the front porch with her arms over her chest.

Curtis stood on the bottom step, grinning proudly at the lawn. He nodded at Wynonna. “Go ahead. See if they’re sturdy.”

Nicole followed Wynonna and Waverly down the stairs to the large wooden pieces Curtis had put on the front lawn. They had spent most of the day in the front window, watching Curtis as he built braces on the front porch and nailed them to the wooden panels he bought at the hardware store. 

By lunchtime, he had laid the tarp he got out on the lawn. They were all kneeling on the couch that they had pushed against the wall, just under the window, watching as he twisted and turned it, trying to lay it out flat.

“Oh, boy,” Wynonna grumbled. “Bumblebear is coming over.”

Nicole sat up, excited.

“Hello, Mrs. Sullivan!” Curtis called as he pulled the tarp further towards the driveway. 

“Curtis McCready, what are you doing?” Mrs. Sullivan asked. Her voice was distorted and hard to hear through the window, but Mrs. Sullivan was loud enough.

“What does that old Bumblebear want now?” Gus asked, leaning over the couch to look out the window.

Waverly giggled like she always did when Gus called her ‘Bumblebear.’

‘I’m making an ice rink,” Curtis said. He stretched his arms out wide. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s an eyesore,” Mrs. Sullivan said, her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “How in the hell are you going to do this?”

Curtis pointed at the tarp. “I just need to center this and then put the wood panels down over it.”

Mrs. Sullivan raised an eyebrow.

“ _ Ooo _ ,” Nicole said. “She hates it.”

“I hate it.”

“It’s for the kids,” Curtis pointed out.

Mrs. Sullivan scoffed. “That’s even worse.”

“Oh, come on, you old grouch. Have some winter spirit.”

Mrs. Sullivan glared at him. “Curtis McCready, you are an exhausting man.”

Curtis looked back towards the house, grinning when he saw their faces pressed against the window. “My girls don’t think so.”

Mrs. Sullivan narrowed her eyes and peered up at them.

Waverly squeaked and ducked out of sight, her hand clutching at the hem of Nicole’s shirt.

“Yes, your girls,” she said.

Curtis clapped his hands together once. “And the rest of the kids are welcome to come over and use it.”

Mrs. Sullivan waved her hand at him. “Gus must be a saint.” She turned on heel and started marching back across the street. “I don’t know how she would put with you otherwise!” she yelled over her shoulder.

Curtis laughed and turned back to the window, winking at them.

Waverly let go of Nicole’s shirt. “Sorry,” she said, blushing.

Nicole smoothed down the wrinkled fabric. “It’s okay.”

On screen, Moira Kelly is skating backwards in a miniskirt. Waverly shifts against Nicole’s arm, finding her knee in the dark and curling her fingers against the denim. 

“That’s not Spindler. Where the hell is Spindler?” she asks. “I thought you said he’d be here.”

“No,” Anton says. “You said Spindler. This is Dorsey. Mr. Douglas Dorsey.”

“Dorsey,” Kate repeats, unimpressed. “Never heard of him.” She looks Doug up and down.

Waverly giggles at the smirk on Doug’s face. 

“Douglas is  _ beautiful _ skater,” Anton says.

Nicole feels her body bracing for the truth to come.

“Oh. You’re that hockey player.”

Doug nods, his face still twisted in a goofy smirk. He walks across the ice, his steps sure and graceful the way Nicole’s never were. “How’re you doing? Nice to meet you,” he says, sticking his hand out. 

“It’s tryout,” Anton says quickly. “He’s tryout.”

Slowly, Kate sticks her hand out. The camera zooms in on their hands meeting, fingers flexing as they shake. Nicole squirms in her seat a little as the handshake goes on and on. Finally, Kate pulls her hand away, shaking it out and glaring at Doug.

“What? My hand?”

“Well, what do you do? Soak it in battery acid?”

Doug’s lips twitch. “Oh, I know they’re a little rough, but I’ve never had any complaints before.”

Nicole leans down, her lips brushing against Waverly’s ear. “They’re going to bone.”

“I’m terribly impressed,” Kate said, sounding anything but. “What is this? The final stages of Ukrainian alcoholic psychosis?”

“Wait a second,” Doug cuts in. “Who’s checking out who here?”

Nicole laughs. “They’re  _ totally _ going to bone.”

“Baby girl!” Curtis hollered the next day as he came into the house. “I need your help!”

Wynonna sprinted to the front hallway, elbowing Waverly out of the way. “I want to help.”

Curtis held up a hand. “I’ll have something for you to do.”

“What about me?” Nicole asked. “Do I get to help?”

“You sure do.” Curtis smiled and reached out, patting her on shoulder. “You each have a special thing I need help with.”

“ _ Clutch _ ,” Nicole breathed out.

“But first,” Curtis continued. “I need Waverly.” He leaned towards the staircase, leaning heavily on the bannister. “Baby girl!”

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “She’s on the upstairs line with Chrissy. They’re talking about junior cheerleading tryouts because they couldn’t last night.”

“Already?” Nicole asked, her stomach fluttering. “Didn’t they just finish?”

Wynonna shrugged. “She was going on and on about doing some kind of routine with both of them and how they have to be total Norvilles and practice. In  _ January _ .”

Nicole swallowed, her chest tight. “Oh,” she said softly. She could hear Van Halen playing somewhere in her head that she couldn’t really get to, as if someone was pushing the speaker further and further away.

“If you had gotten off the phone last night,” Waverly said from the top of the stairs. She stomped down a few steps. “But  _ no _ . You  _ had _ to talk to Nicole about whatever  _ mental _ -”

“It’s because I finally found the Huey Lewis  _ Rolling Stone _ where they talk about his golf outfit.”

Nicole snorted and looked at Curtis. “He had on white golfing spikes, black shorts and a newspaper article shirt.”

“How can she read it through the phone?” Waverly asked, her hand on her hip as she stepped off the stairs. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I  _ spelled _ the words over the phone, nimwit.”

Curtis put a hand on each of their shoulders, nudging them back from each other. “Okay, girls, let’s take a break. Waverly, get your coat on and come help me drag the hose around front.” He pointed his finger at Nicole and Wynonna. “You two are going to go get the rakes from the basement.”

Wynonna sighed. “Rakes?”

Curtis nodded. “We’re going to use the rakes to push the water around the rink. Waverly is going to help me with the hose and you two will be in charge of the rakes to...” He trailed off, his hand on his chin as he frowned. “On second thought, rakes might rip the tarp if we’re not careful.”

Nicole straightened up, puffing her chest out. “I can be careful.”

Curtis smiled softly. “Oh, I know you can, girl.” He nodded at Wynonna, and they both watched as she tried to get her coat off the coat rack by standing on the end table. “Wynonna, though. I’m not sure,” he said as Wynonna fell to the floor.

“I’m good, I’m good,” she said, getting up and brushing herself off. 

Doug is looking down over Kate’s arm as they get into position. “Hey, what's the deal with these claws in the front here?”

Anton pauses. “Is toe pick.”

Doug frowns. “Toe pick? Let me guess, it has something to do with personal hygiene.” He smirks.

Kate stares at him, her eyes cold and unblinking. “I wouldn't let that get in your way.”

Doug leans a little closer. “I don't let anything get in my way.”

Kate turns her head slowly back around. “Count it off.”

Waverly shifts against her, reaching for the popcorn. “Want some?” she asks Nicole.

Nicole shushes her softly and pushes the popcorn bucket away from her lap. She watches them push off, Doug trailing a few feet as he adjusts to the figure skates. Kate skates gracefully, like Chrissy Nedley moving across the old ice rink Curtis built. 

Doug stumbles like Doc trying to figure out how his feet work. The claw on the front of the blade catches in the ice and Doug goes forward, tripping over his feet until he hits the ice, chest first.

Kate skates backwards away from him, coming to a stop next to Anton. She lifts her foot. “Toepick.”

Nicole laughs.

She laughs when he stumbles again and again and again before falling face-first onto the ice.

“Toepick,” Kate says.

“Again!” Anton shouts.

Doug falls. 

“Toepick,” Kate calls.

Doug stumbles to the left. 

“Toepick,” Kate reminds him.

Doug stumbles to the right.

Kate laughs.

Doug falls again. 

Kate makes a sharp circle around him. “ _ Toooe _ pick,” she sings as she skates across the rink.

Doug groans and drops his head back against the ice. 

“Finish that plate,” Gus commanded, pushing it back in front of Wynonna.

Nicole paused, her hands on her plate. She slowly pulled in back in front of her as Wynonna grabbed hers and yanked it back into place.

“I want to go check and see if the water is frozen,” Wynonna whined. “It was cold last night!”

“And I want you to finish your pancakes,” Gus fired back. “Guess who’s going to win this one?”

Wynonna pouted. “How come Waverly got to go out and check?”

“Waverly finished her breakfast.”

“She had less food than me.”

“You asked for more,” Gus reminded her.

Wynonna scowled.

Curtis stomped through the front door, shouting for Wynonna and Nicole. 

Gus sighed. “Honestly, Curtis. Do you need to yell?”

“Yes, dear,” Curtis sang as he came into the kitchen. “We have  _ ice _ .”

Nicole hurriedly shoved the last piece of pancake into her mouth and chewed. Wynonna dropped her fork and grabbed the last pancake on her plate with both hands, rolling it up and finishing it in two bites. 

Curtis laughed, the noise dying off as Gus glared at him. “I mean.” He swallowed, smiling at Gus reassuringly. “Digestion is really important, and-”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Curtis,” Gus sighed. “This is why she never listens to me, you know. Because I say something and you-”

Curtis stepped forward, his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“She’s right,” Wynonna said. “You shouldn’t overmine her like that.”

“Under,” Nicole mumbles.

“ _ Under _ mine,” Wynonna repeats. She shrinks a little at the glare on Gus’s face. “I finished my plate. Can I go outside now?”

Gus took a deep breath and nodded silently.

Wynonna grabbed Nicole by the back of the shirt and tugged. Nicole stumbled out of her chair, tripping over her feet. She gave Gus a sheepish smile as she followed Wynonna through the kitchen and down the front hall.

She pulled on her boots, but left her coat hanging next to Waverly’s backpack on the coat rack. 

They raced down the steps. Wynonna jumped the last two, landing hard in the grass and the frosted dew. Nicole hurried after her, shouldering her out of the way as they came to a stop next to Waverly.

“Wow,” she breathed out.

“Bitchin’,” Wynonna added. She looked at Nicole excitedly. “This is the  _ tits _ .”

Waverly frowned. “What did you say?”

Wynonna waved a hand dismissively. “It means it’s, like, so cool.”

“ _ It’s the tits _ ,” Waverly repeated slowly. She smiled. “I like it.”

“You better never say it in front of Gus or Curtis,” Nicole warned. “Gus’ll blow her top.”

“Have you touched it?” Wynonna asked, squatting down at the side of the wooden panel.

Nicole kept staring, her mouth hanging open. It was the shiniest surface she’d ever seen in her life. The morning sun was coming up and it splashed across the ice like magic, hitting the nailheads in the boards Curtis used and throwing the light back up into Nicole’s eyes.

Waverly shook her head. “I didn’t want to. It’s so…”

“ _ Perfect _ ,” Nicole breathed out. She looked at Waverly. “I know.”

Waverly smiled widely.

That feeling was back - the same one she got when she was in the woods with Waverly and Waverly was smiling at her, kicking her leg up into the air. It twists and spins inside Nicole’s stomach. For a minute, she’s worried it was the pancakes coming back up, but she didn’t feel hot like she usually did when she was about to ralph.

This time, she just felt  _ warm _ . Waverly smiled and the warmth traveled from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her toes and fingers. 

She shook her head and squatted down in the grass next to Wynonna. She let her hand hover above the ice before she touched her fingertips to it. The top was a little watery, but underneath it, the ice was solid and cold.

“Maybe one more night,” Curtis said from behind them. 

Nicole pulled her hand back quickly, shoving it into the pocket of her jeans. The morning chill was settling in and she felt goosebumps on her arms.

Curtis smiled at them. “One more night and then tomorrow, maybe we can go skating.” He nodded back at the house. “What do you say we spend the rest of Saturday like we used to?”

Waverly clapped her hands together excitedly, jumping up and down. Her foot landed on Nicole’s for a moment. “Hot chocolate! And  _ Murder She Wrote _ ! And we can play Clue!”

Wynonna made a face. “You always cheat at Clue.”

Waverly glared at Wynonna. “Curtis says it’s  _ not _ cheating. Sometimes you can ask for help.”

“I don’t need  _ anyone’s  _ help,” Wynonna muttered.

Nicole shouldered Wynonna gently. “Let’s just go before Waverly takes Professor Plum.”

Wynonna’s eyes lit up. “Dibs!” She sprinted across the lawn and up the stairs, Waverly close on her heels.

Curtis draped his arm across Nicole’s shoulders. “Waverly doesn’t ever want to be Professor Plum,” he said casually.

Nicole shrugged. “Sometimes, I ask her to pretend so that Wynonna feels like she’s winning.”

“Do you think D.B. Sweeney is good-looking?” Waverly whispers in her ear.

Nicole squints at the screen. “What?”

Waverly nods at the movie. D.B. Sweeney is in an elevator, the sun in his eyes. She shrugs. He’s good-looking the same way Doc is good-looking - he looks good on the employee wall at Bustillos, but Nicole isn’t interested.

“Going down?” a woman asks.

Nicole leans in. “ _ Wait _ , who is  _ that _ ?” she hisses.

Waverly turns in her seat. “Oh, you think  _ she’s _ good-looking?”

Nicole rolls her eyes, smiling. “Don’t fish.”

Waverly scans the theater. “Where’s Fish?”

Nicole sighs. “No, just... who is she?”

The woman and Doug get off the elevator, laughing.

“Lorie Peckarovski,” Waverly whispers. “The other woman on the U.S. team.”

Nicole nods, wincing as Doug and Lorie stumble into Kate and Hale.

“You were supposed to be napping,” Kate says.

Doug barely glances at her. “Oh, I wasn’t tired.”

The scene cuts to Hale and Kate in their hotel. Kate rants and raves about Doug and Lorie, but Nicole can only hear Waverly, fourteen years old, in her  _ neon lights _ bathing suit with her sunglasses in her hair, yelling at Nicole for sharing an Orange Crush with Chrissy. She can hear Waverly, sixteen, asking if Nicole is interested in Samantha Baker or Mercedes.

“You're falling for him,” Hale says.

Kate blinks. “What?”

“Doug,” Hale says slowly.

Kate scoffs. “ _ Yeah _ .”

Hale smiles crookedly, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “You are. You're falling for him.”

“Well, that's crazy.” Kate struggles to get her earring in her ear. 

Hale tips his head. “You think so?”

Kate checks her second earring. “You're nuts.”

“Am I?”

“Well, you see how we act together,” Kate say, looking anywhere except at Hale.

“Yes, I do,” Hale says, sliding forward on the couch.

Kate huffs, blowing her hair out of her eyes. “We never get along. I mean, we're  _ always _ fighting.”

“Foreplay,” Hale says plainly.

“They’re  _ definitely _ going to bone now,” she whispers in Waverly’s ear.

Waverly laughs and shushes her.

“How many people did you invite?” Nicole asked, her voice filled with awe.

Wynonna crossed her arms over her chest proudly. “I told Doc to tell everyone we had an ice rink,” she said. “He may have told people who told people.”

“People who told people,” Nicole repeated. She looked across the lawn again. “Wynonna, there are more people here than in our math class.”

Wynonna shrugged. “Our math class  _ is _ here.” She nudged Nicole. “Nick Blanchard is here.”

Nicole looked towards the corner of the rink. Nick Blanchard waved back. Nicole felt her mouth twist in a frown but she turned her head before he saw it.

“What’s the deal?”

Nicole spun around at the sound of Waverly’s voice behind them. She smiled. “Hey.”

Waverly’s eyes widened as she looked around the front yard. “This is a ton of people.”

“Yep,” Wynonna said proudly, popping the  _ p _ at the end of the word.

Champ Hardy and the York boys and Carl Junger were pushing each other on the ice. Chrissy and Rosita, their leg warmers over their skates, were standing near Xavier Dolls and his friends. Jeremy Chetri from across the street ran over, a few kids from his grade behind him.

Doc, Fish, Levi, Mercedes, and a girl Nicole didn’t know were sitting on a few sleds near the edge of the rink. Wynonna grabbed Nicole by the arm and hauled her closer to them. Nathan breezed by, turning and showing off his backwards skating. Perry Crofte tried to catch up with him, tripping over the front of his skates. He nearly crashed into Rosita, but Chrissy caught him at the last second.

“Thanks,” Nicole heard him say. “I’m Perry.”

“ _ Doy _ ,” Chrissy said, rolling her eyes and turning back to Rosita.

“Boys,” Wynonna said loudly. “And Gardner.”

Doc smiled up at her. Fish and Levi looked up suddenly, their cheeks red as they shoved their hands in the pockets of their own coats. Mercedes leaned back on her gloved hands. The new girl looked up at them, her eyes lingering on Nicole.

Mercedes raised her eyebrows at Nicole. “Hey, Haughthead.”

Nicole groaned. “It’s been, like, six years.” She kicked some of the snow. “Can’t you leave it alone?”

“This is Shae,” Doc introduced over Mercedes’s response. “Shae Pressman. She just moved onto my street, a few houses over.”

“Poor Doc got stuck babysitting me,” Shae said quickly.

Wynonna narrowed her eyes. “He’s-”

“And you’re Wynonna,” Shae interrupted. “His girlfriend.”

Wynonna shrugged a shoulder, but Nicole could see the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. “This is Nicole,” she said instead.

“Hi,” Shae said softly, smiling shyly at Nicole.

“Uh, hi,” Nicole said. She turned her attention back to Doc. She grabbed his cowboy hat and put it on her head. She pulled it low over her eyes, spread her legs, and canted her hips forward. “Look. I’m Doc.” She dropped one shoulder and leaned towards Wynonna. “Wanna take a ride on my  _ motorcycle _ ?” she asked, wiggingly her eyebrows.

Wynonna snorted.

“Kindly return that to my head,” Doc said, reaching for it.

Nicole smirked and danced away from his hand. “Come and get it, John Wayne.”

“It’s John  _ Henry _ , if you please,” he said.

“I don’t please,” Nicole fired back.

Doc stood up, dusting snow off his hands. “Haught.”

“Holliday.”

Doc lunged forward. Nicole stepped to the right, laughing as Doc sailed past her. She raised her arms in victory, etting out a  _ whoop _ that ended in an  _ oof _ as someone tackled her to the ground. She laughed, rolling around the snow as Waverly tried to grab for the hat in her hands.

“ _ Waves _ ,” Nicole said, clutching the hat tightly.

Waverly laughed in her ear, her knee in Nicole’s side.

“Hey, Dusty Rhodes,” Wynonna said, her voice colored with annoyance. Waverly sat up quickly. “Can we get our skates on now?”

Nicole swallowed hard, rolling over in the light snow to stare at the bright blue winter sky. “Maybe I’ll-”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Waverly breathed out, pushing on Nicole’s side to get enough leverage to stand up. “Let’s skate.”

Nicole wondered for a minute if she was going to puke.

“You look nervous,” Kate laughs. She looks at the ice, her eyes straying back to Doug almost instantly. “Hey, you look really nervous.”

Doug sways back and forth on his skates.

“Well, how are you…” Kate trails off, her eyes scanning Doug’s face. “How nervous  _ are _ you?”

Doug looks down at Kate, his eyes glazed and unable to focus. He jerks one way, running back behind a curtain and throwing up.

Nicole winces at the same time as Kate does on screen, her stomach rolling.

Doug stumbles back into place next to Kate, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He leans in towards her. “I feel better.”

“ _ Just like rollerblades _ ,” Nicole told herself as she slid her foot into the skate she borrowed from Nathan. He had tossed them into the snow for her when he got bored of the rink. He took off on his Huffy Thunder Road with Perry and a few other kids from their class, his overnight bag hanging off his handlebars.

“ _ Just like rollerblades,”  _ she repeated.

She swallowed heavily and the lace slipped out of her hand. 

“Are you okay?”

Nicole jumped, the skate nearly falling off. “Damn, skippy,” she hisses.

Waverly shrugged. “You’ve been sitting here for ten minutes. I thought we were skating.”

Nicole thought about telling a lie. She thought about saying that the eggs Gus made that morning didn’t taste right, but she couldn’t insult Gus’s cooking. She thought about saying she needed to go home, but she couldn’t go home because her mom was working a double shift and she was supposed to stay at the McCreadys’ for the weekend. Instead, she shrugged a shoulder and bent her head down again, intent on tying the laces tight enough so she wouldn’t feel her toes.

“Aren’t you skating with Chrissy and Rosita?”

Waverly made a noise in the back of her throat. “They’re with Stephanie and Samantha Baker,” she said. “I want to skate with you.”

Nicole snorted. “You just don’t like Samantha.”

Waverly shook her head. “She’s just… She’s…”

“I like her,” Nicole said with a shrug.

“ _ Friendly _ ,” Waverly spit out.

Nicole looked at Waverly with wide eyes. “What’s wrong with ‘friendly’? Weren’t you voted Nicest Person in Purgatory at school last year?”

Waverly’s shoulder straightened and her chest puffed out. “Animagously.”

Nicole frowned. “ _ What _ ?”

Waverly’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Everyone voted for me.”

Nicole nodded. “ _ Unanimous _ .”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, it’s-” Nicole sighed. “Whatever.” She dropped the laces again, sitting up and stretching her leg out in front of her.

Waverly tapped her hand against Nicole’s leg impatiently. “Come  _ on _ , space cadet. Let’s skate.”

“I…” Nicole trailed off. She took a deep breath and decided to face the truth head-on. “I don’t know how to skate.”

Waverly frowned. “Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout?” she asked, her voice high. “You rollerbladed last summer. Remember? You fell down Billings Hill and went down on your stomach?”

The skin over Nicole’s stomach burned at the mention of sliding, face down, over 20 feet of tar. “That was  _ rollerblading _ ,” Nicole said. “This is on  _ ice _ .”

“It’s the same,” Waverly insisted.

Nicole shook her head firmly. “No, it’s not.”

Waverly narrowed her eyes. “So, what? You’re not even going to try?”

Nicole looked up with wide eyes, watching Wynonna and Doc zip by on their skates. Rosita did a pretty twirl on one foot. Even Carl Junger was moving across the ice steadily, upright the whole time.

That girl -  _ Shae _ , Nicole remembered - smiled at her again.

Nicole shook her head firmly.

“Definitely not in front of  _ them _ ,” Nicole breathed out.

Doug skates along a line of pages on the ice, stopping in front of one. He reaches down to pick it up, studying it. “What is this bounce, spin, into a throw?” he asks.

Kate skates up next to him, her face pinched. “You can’t do that.”

Anton ignores her. “The key is the release. There can be no halfway.”

“No, no, no,” Kate insists, skating a circle around them. “It’s  _ illegal _ .”

“Legano... Illegano…” Anton shrugs. “Is grey area.”

“Bounce, spin, to a throw, twist, and I catch her?” Doug asks, reading over the diagram in his hand.

Anton makes a face. “Sort of.”

“We can’t do this,” Kate insists.

“Why no?” Anton asks. “We have all the pieces.”

“A Pamchenko twist!” Doug declares, grinning.

Curtis’s boots rattled the porch as he stepped out of the house. “What’re you girls doing on the porch? Why aren’t you skating?”

Nicole swallowed heavily, but Waverly spoke up first. “Taking it  _ easy _ ,” she sang lightly.

Curtis laughed. “Think Wynonna is having a good time?” he asked as he sat down on the top step next to them. Waverly moved closer to Nicole to make room.

Nicole thought he looked funny with his knees up at his ears like that. She could feel Waverly pressed against her side. She looked up and across the lawn, giggling instantly as she found Wynonna through the crowd on the ice.

Wynonna was skating slowly, Doc’s hands gripping her waist tightly from behind as he tried to put one skate in front of the other. Champ zipped by, his shoulder clipping Wynonna’s, and Doc shouted, his balance tipping to one side. 

He started to fall but Fish caught him by the coat. Nicole could see Doc grin widely, and then his face morph as he slipped out of his coat and hit the ice.

“ _ Ooo _ ,” Waverly exhaled. 

Curtis snorted. “Is that boy supposed to look like Kris Kristofferson?”

Nicole frowned.

“ _ Heaven’s Gate _ ,” Curtis prompted. He sighed at Nicole and Waverly’s blank look. “Remind me to have a movie night with you girls and that cowboy of Wynonna’s.”

Waverly giggled. “He’s Wynonna’s cowboy.”

Nicole panicked for a second. She studied Curtis’s face, wondering if he would be mad. Wynonna hadn’t told anyone yet, that Doc held her hand at recess and asked permission to kiss her behind the swings while everyone else started going inside.

Nicole watched Curtis watch Wynonna and Doc, still trying to skate even though Doc was slipping every other step. His face relaxed and his eyes went soft and one side of his mouth lifted up, like he was thinking about maybe smiling.

“Doc is a good kid,” Curtis said softly. “And he helped me figure out why the truck was making that noise, you know. Did it in just a few minutes, too. I went down and told Bustillos that he’s got a great apprentice on his hands.”

Nicole’s mouth dropped open. “That was  _ you _ ?”

Curtis looked at her out of the corner of his eye and winked. He slapped his hands down on his knees and pushed up into a standing position. “Well, girls. How about I get you some hot chocolate?”

Nicole looks up hopefully. “With-”

“Marshmallow creme?” Curtis asked. He smiled. “I can do that.”

Nicole ducked her head and grinned down at the tops of her boots. She had skates  Waverly swayed sideways, knocking her shoulder against Nicole’s.

“Why do you like marshmallow creme so much?”

Nicole shrugged. “I like the way it covers the whole cup. Marshmallows are…” She shrugged again. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like a blanket for hot chocolate.”

Waverly smiled. “A bonus blanket.”

Nicole smiled softly. “Sure. A bonus blanket.”

Waverly looked down where her winter coat met Nicole’s puffy Blue Jays Starter jacket that used to belong to Nathan. “Oh, sorry,” she said, sliding away across the step.

“Don’t worry, it’s-” Nicole closed her mouth, smiling instead. The cold rushed in against her side and she shivered. She put her hand down on the step, picking at the wood with her fingernail. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Waverly’s hand drop down, too.

She watched as Waverly’s hand slid out and nearly touched hers.

That feeling was back. It made her stomach hurt like she drank too many cups of hot chocolate and then had her mom’s chili. She used to think it was anger - anger at her dad and anger at Nathan and anger because everything was falling apart and she couldn’t stop it.

But it didn’t feel like  _ anger _ anymore. It felt like riding a rollercoaster. It felt like she swallowed a can of bubbles. It felt like if she jumped, she might not land on the ground.

“Nicole, right?”

Nicole jumped. That girl from before was suddenly in front of her, kicking at the loose baseboard of the first step. She nodded. “Right.”

Waverly’s fingernail brushed against her knuckle.

“I just moved in on Doc’s street, like, last weekend,” she continued.

_ Shae _ , Nicole thought.  _ Her name is Shae  _

“I was…”

Nicole couldn’t hear the words coming out of the girl’s mouth.

They were immediately swallowed up by the feeling of Waverly’s pinky finger against her own. Her hands were cold and she should have worn gloves, but Waverly’s finger was like an electric wire through her hand and up her arm. 

Nicole blinked. “What?”

Shae’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. It’s okay. It wasn’t important.” She smiled hesitantly. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” Nicole breathed out. She turned her head to look at Waverly, but Waverly was glaring across the lawn, eyes narrowed. “Waves? You okay?”

Waverly jumped and looked down. Her eyes widened when she saw her hand on Nicole’s. She snatched it back, shoving it into her pocket.

“I’m-”

“One hot chocolate with marshmallow creme and one with marshmallows. Just the way you like them,” Curtis said loudly as he thumped down the stairs and handed them each a mug. He winked at Nicole. “And  _ you _ get the lucky tomato mug.”

Nicole looked at Waverly’s hand, wrapped around a red plaid mug, and her stomach knotted up again. “Yeah,” she muttered under her breath. “Lucky.”

Nicole feels her whole body leaning forward as Doug and Kate go into their final turn before the Pamchenko. She feels her lungs swell as she holds her breath, her fingernails digging into the armrest.

Doug grabs her by the ankle, going into the spin. Kate’s body leaves the ground, parallel to the ice as Doug goes around and around and around. He lets go and Kate goes up in slow motion.

Nicole doesn’t even swallow as Kate spins in mid-air, landing hard in Doug’s arms.

They slide smoothly across the ice while the crowd goes wild. Doug dips Kate and they glide to a stop.

“You didn't have to,” Doug says over the roar of the crowd.

Kate’s eyes sparkle. “Yes, I did.”

Doug shakes his head softly. “Why?”

“Because I love you,” Kate admits.

“Just remember who said it first,” Doug breathes out, smirking.

“Wow,” Nicole says as the lights come up. Waverly shifts forward, freeing Nicole’s arm. Nicole sits up, stretching her neck out and swinging her arm back and forth to get some feeling in it. 

“I’m sorry,” Waverly says instantly.

Nicole twists side to side. “You should be,” she mutters, thinking how she can’t feel her arm with the way Waverly was leaning against it. 

Waverly’s shoulders drop.

“I didn’t expect it to be that long,” Nicole says.

Waverly shakes her head softly, picking up the empty popcorn bucket and dropping Nicole’s empty soda cup into it. They follow the middle-aged couple out of the theater, throwing their trash into the can and cutting through the lobby.

“Neither did I,” Waverly finally says. “If I knew-”

“That was a  _ sweet _ move at the end. And they, like, did it. They actually did it.” Nicole says over her. Waverly’s hand twitches in hers. “I like hockey, obviously.”

“Go Oilers!” someone shouts from behind them.

“I thought there would be  _ more _ hockey,” Waverly admits. “I’m really-”

“ _ Figure skating _ ,” Nicole says loudly, interrupting Waverly. She can’t believe she liked a movie about figure skating. 

Waverly sighs. “Okay, Nicole.”

Nicole doesn’t hear her. “And the outfits? I mean,  _ wow _ . They were-”

Waverly’s hand slips out of hers as they step out of the Colonial. 

“Is it wrong that I  _ liked _ Hale? Was I not supposed to like him?” She frowns. “I  _ loved _ Dorsey. He was great and totally the hero of the movie, but Hale was so…  _ dependable _ ? Kind of stuck up, though. He honestly reminded me of-” She turns around, frowning. Waverly is still on the sidewalk, three meters away, her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter?” Nicole asks.

Waverly’s mouth turns down and she narrows her eyes. “You don’t have to make fun of it,” she says, her jaw muscle twitching as she looks towards the street.

Nicole laughs. “What?”

Waverly’s eyes dart back to her. “You didn’t like it. Fine. I’m sorry there wasn’t more hockey, but you don’t need to make fun of me for liking it.”

Nicole stops laughing, tipping her head to the side as she frowns. “What’s your beef?”

“You didn’t like it, and-”

“I didn’t?” Nicole asks, surprised.

“You’re making fun of it, and-”

Nicole raises an eyebrow. “I am?”

Waverly exhales loudly, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. “ _ Stop it _ ,” she hisses.

Nicole lifts her hands in surrender. “Woah. I liked the movie. I don’t know why you think I didn’t.”

Waverly opens her mouth but pauses, her eyes softening. “You… You did?”

“What’s not to like?” Nicole asks.

Waverly lifts a finger. “It’s a romantic comedy,” she says. She lifts a second finger. “Ice skating. Leotards and-”

“Turning your world upside down for the girl that makes it spin?” Nicole says softly. She reaches for Waverly again, her fingers sliding through the belt loops of her jeans. She tugs softly until Waverly steps closer, their hips pressing against each other. “I’m kind of familiar with the concept.”

Waverly snorts softly and ducks her head.

Nicole presses a finger to the bottom of Waverly’s chin, tipping her head back. “I liked the movie.”

Waverly squints a little. “You did?” 

Nicole nods. “I liked the movie,” she repeats. She toes the sidewalk with the tip of her boot. “The ‘toepick’ part was  _ killer _ ,” she admits. “He just kept falling and falling and falling.” She shrugs. “Maybe… Maybe, if you have time, we can come see it again?”

Waverly leans back, her eyes wide. “You… You want to see it  _ again _ .”

Nicole’s hand drops from Waverly’s chin and she unwinds her fingers from Waverly’s jeans. “Forget it. We don’t have to.”

“No, no, no,” Waverly says quickly, pulling Nicole’s arms back around her waist. “I’m just surprised. You didn’t even want to see  _ Die Hard _ twice.”

“I can  _ like _ romantic comedies,” Nicole says defensively.

“Of course you can, baby,” Waverly says. She presses up on her tiptoes and kisses Nicole softly.

Nicole pulls back, her eyes closed and a smile on her face. “Well, good.”

“Good,” Waverly echoes softly.

“But if you want me to talk about all the things that sucked, we can start with the music,” Nicole starts.

Waverly snorts. “Here we go.”

“Doug Dorsey is a kickass hockey player on the 1988 Olympic Hockey team, and not a  _ single _ Def Leppard song?” Nicole continues. “No Guns N’ Roses?  _ Seriously _ ?”

 

-

Nicole honks the horn twice, leaning out of the driver’s window of her Bonneville impatiently. “Wynonna!” she shouts. “Let’s  _ go _ .”

Wynonna hefts her duffel bag up onto her shoulder, nods at the guy selling magazines by the bus station door, and walks towards Nicole. She sighs as she stops in front of the hood of Nicole’s car, dropping her duffel bag again.

Nicole groans and drops her head against the steering wheel. She pushes up and sits on the edge of the window, her hands on the roof of the car. “Get. In. The. Car.”

“Oh, Pussy Wagon,” Wynonna says, laying facedown on the hood of the car.

“It’s not called that!” Nicole hisses. She looks over the top of her car at a woman staring back at her, hands clasped over her son’s ears. “It’s not called that,” she repeats calmly. “I’m sorry, you have to excuse her, she’s-”

“Let’s go, Haught. You, me, and Pussy Wagon here need to get on the road,” Wynonna declares. She picks up her duffel and comes around the front of the car, pushing it through the passenger window. She turns, leaning back against the car, to look the mother up and down.

“Wynonna,” Nicole warns.

Wynonna narrows her eyes at the mother. “Like something you see? Because she’s taken.”

“Not by her,” Nicole adds quickly.

Wynonna looks back over her shoulder and winks. “You’d be so lucky.”

“Wynonna,” Nicole whines. “Please. It’s already 1530.”

“You know I don’t speak your weird time language,” Wynonna says lazily, still looking at the mother. The little boy looks at Wynonna’s leather jacket and black 1460 Doc Martens, his eyes wide. 

“It’s 3:30 in the afternoon,” Nicole sighs. “By the time we get back to Purgatory, it’ll be almost 5.” She groans when Wynonna doesn’t move, sliding back into the car and grabbing the back of Wynonna’s jacket through the window. She tugs hard. “Get in the car,” she says again.

Wynonna shrugs a shoulder and pulls the door open, sliding in. She pulls the door shut behind her, leaning out towards the mother and her son. “Next time, take a Polaroid.”

Nicole sighs and starts her car, the radio coming to life as the engine roars.

Wynonna runs her hands over the dashboard. “Oh, P-Dubs. I missed you.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and backs out of her parking space, turning out of the bus station parking lot and onto the highway. 

Wynonna leans back in the passenger’s seat, lifting her legs and sitting criss-cross. She hangs her hand out the window

“Did Nedley give you hell for taking a day off?” she asks.

Nicole shrugs. “I just switched with Landry. He didn’t mind.”

Wynonna lets her eyes close for a moment. “Was Gus pissed?” she asks quietly.

Nicole waits until Wynonna opens her eyes before answering. “She was worried.”

“But she was pissed first,” Wynonna says

Nicole shrugs a shoulder. “Well, yeah. She’s convinced that one of these days, you’re going to die on the side of a highway. Or worse! Be abducted by some crazy killer named…  _ Jack of Knives _ and they’ll find your bike just rolling along the highway, blood all over the handlebars.”

Wynonna snorts. “Like some hoser named  _ Jack of Knives _ could pull something like that on me.”

Nicole looks at her sharply. “It’s not funny, Wynonna. I read the stats coming out of the cities. Edmonton? Did you know the homicide rate in Edmonton in 1991 went up to four crimes per 100,000 people in 1992?”

Wynonna blinks at her. “So you’re telling me that for 100,000 people that exist in Edmonton, four died in 1991.”

Nicole glares at her. “No. For every 100,000 people that exist in Edmonton, 3.7 died in 1991.”

Wynonna frowns. “How do you kill 3.7 people?” She slaps her flat palm down on the dashboard. “Is that like when you try to kill a person and you, like, cut off their arm instead of end their life, and so you only kill  _ a part _ of them?”

Nicole ignores Wynonna and turns up the radio.

“ _ There's a fire in my heart, a pounding in my brain - it's driving me crazy _ ,” Jack Blades sings.

“And what’re you reading crime stats for, Pointdexter?” Wynonna asks.

“I’m a  _ Purgatory Sheriff’s Department Officer _ ,” Nicole says slowly. “It’s kind of my job.”

“How is old Randy?” Wynonna asks, turning down Damn Yankees as they move into the chorus.

Nicole raises an eyebrow.

“And Chrissy, too?” Wynonna turns in her seat, resting her elbow on the back of the bench seat. She leans her head against her arm. “ _ Oh _ ! How’s Perky Tits?”

Nicole snorts. “How am I supposed to know?”

Jack Blades takes them through the rest of “High Enough.” Nicole sings along under her breath, tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. 

“Is Stephanie Jones still working at… Where is she working again?” Wynonna asks.

Nicole glances at Wynonna out of the corner of her eye. “You know where she’s working.”

Wynonna snaps her fingers. “I can’t remember. Cat Willows?”

“Wynonna.”

“Cat’s Tails?”

Nicole ignores her.

“Pretty Wildflowers? Weeping Willows? Puss N’ Boots?”

“Pussy Willows,” Nicole says through clenched teeth.

Wynonna grins, clapping her hands together. “That’s the one. Is she still working there?”

“How would I know that?” Nicole asks, her voice strained.

“How else are you keeping warm on those lonely nights?” Wynonna teases.

Nicole crooks her finger in Wynonna’s direction, beckoning her closer. She waits until Wynonna is in the middle seat before she opens her mouth. “I own a gun,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

Wynonna fakes a gasp, her hand pressed against her chest dramatically. “Officer Haught.”

Nicole drops a hand from the wheel and shoves at Wynonna’s shoulder. 

Wynonna laughs and slides back into the passenger seat, nodding along as “High Enough” transitions into “Enter Sandman” by Metallica.

_ “Say your prayers, little one. Don't forget, my son, to include everyone _ ,” James Hetfield sings. “ _ Tuck you in, warm within, keep you free from sin, till the Sandman he comes _ .”

“Do you know what Stephanie Jones said to me?” Wynonna says suddenly.

Nicole shrugs. “I honestly can’t even begin to guess.” She leans back a little in her seat, one hand out the window and tapping against the side of the car.

“She told me that I should think about getting a butt lift.”

Nicole frowns. “What?” she asks. “Your ass is like…” She throws a hand out in the air. “It’s top-shelf, man. It’s top-shelf.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Wynonna says, slapping her hand on the dashboard. “She’s molded.”

They listen to “Enter Sandman” and Wynonna asks about everyone else. Nicole tells her what she’s missed, which isn’t much. Jeremy is close to graduating. Dolls is still working at the Purgatory Country Club. Rosita blew something up last week while she was testing her new chemicals she got. Chrissy is taking a class through the bank so she can qualify for a promotion. Mercedes keeps trying to sell the storefront a few down from The Patch.

“And Nathan?”

Nicole sighs. “Nathan is…” She shakes her head. “He’s a disaster. I’ve got to do something soon, or he’s going to…” She trails off.

Wynonna puts her hand on Nicole’s arm, squeezing gently. “He’s not going to do anything.”

Nicole thinks about the empty beer bottles and the hard look in Nathan’s eyes and she shrugs. “I’ll figure something out,” she promises.

“And now, Sally Dworsky with ‘Turning Circles’, coming at you from 88.3, CKXU out of Lethbridge,” the disc jockey says.

Wynonna frowns. “What kind of song is ‘Turning Circles’?”

“ _ Love is so moving as it turns around you. Your heart never figures out how love found you, _ ” Sally Dworsky sings.  _ “Love's aftermath stage, 'one of the lonely'. You're only a number, left counting the days _ .”

“No way,” Wynonna mutters, reaching for the radio dial.

“Wait, don’t touch it,” Nicole says, slapping at Wynonna’s hand.

Wynonna leans away from her. “What?”

“I said, don’t touch it.”

“You  _ like _ this song?” Wynonna asks. She frowns. “This is… This is  _ lame _ .”

“It’s in a movie I like,” Nicole says defensively.

“What movie?” Wynonna asks. She pretends to gag. “God, this is the worst.”

“ _ Turning circles, turning circles. Never knowing what keeps you apart. Turning circles, turning circles, turning circles around your heart. _ ”

She can see Kate Mosley skating circles around an empty ice rink while Doug Dorsey watches from the doorway.

“This is Waverly-music,” Wynonna mutters. “My ears are bleeding.”

“I can leave you on the side of the highway,” Nicole threatens.

“And be responsible when  _ Jack of Knives _ kidnaps me?” Wynonna snorts. “You’d never live that one down.”

_ “Turning circles, turning circles. She's turns circles around your heart. _ ”

They pass by the ‘Welcome to Purgatory’ sign a minute later. 

Wynonna sits up a little straighter and salutes it. “Welcome to the end of the world,” she says loudly. “That’s what the sign should say.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and eases up on the gas as the speed limit drops slightly.

“Well, nothing has changed,” Wynonna mumbles.

Nicole shrugs. “It’s only been two months. What did you expect?”

“For Purgatory to update to this century,” Wynonna says. 

Nicole laughs. “You might be waiting a while.” She puts on her signal and turns onto Main Street. She can see the lights from Shorty’s from here and the big neon tomato sign in The Patch’s window. She feels her body warm as Main Street bustles around her.

She’s home.

Wynonna’s home.

Waverly’s home.

For a minute, everything feels  _ perfect _ .

She parks the car in front of The Patch, leaving her keys in the ignition as she opens the door. 

Wynonna gets out of the car, breathing in deeply as she stands on the sidewalk in front of The Patch. “ _ Yes _ ,” she sighs. “Grease and…” She trails off, her head tipped to the side. “If you listen hard enough, you can hear Roger Hodgson turning over in his grave as Bobo butchers  _ another _ Supertramp song.”

Nicole frowns. “Roger Hodgson isn’t dead.”

Wynonna snorts. “Are we sure? Bobo’s voice is  _ killer _ . And that’s not a compliment,” she adds.

“Wynonna!” Waverly shouts, pushing through the front door of The Patch. She runs and jumps at Wynonna, catching her around the neck and hugging her tightly.

Nicole watches them for a second, feeling everything settle into place. There’s a weight on her shoulders keeping her grounded, and then it’s gone as Wynonna wriggles out of Waverly’s grasp, squeezing her arm gently before stepping back.

“Hey, sis.” She looks Waverly up and down. “You grew out your… hair.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and clenches her hand into a loose fist, pulling back and socking Wynonna in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Wynonna rubs at her arm. “What was that for?”

“One of these days, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

Nicole crosses her arms over her chest and does her best ‘I-told-you-so’ face.

Wynonna ignores her. “I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“ _ This time _ ,” Waverly stresses. “Anyway, you’re home now. We are totally going to have a blast.”

“Like, oh my god,” Wynonna mocks. 

“We can totally have hot chocolate and play Clue and watch  _ Murder She Wrote _ !” Waverly continues, not picking up on Wynonna’s tone.

“Sounds banging,” Wynonna says flatly.

“Oh!” Waverly says. “I got you something.”

“Me?” Wynonna asks.

Waverly frowns at her. “No. Nicole.”

“I’m the one who just got back,” Wynonna reminds her.

“But your birthday is in September.”

Wynonna puts her hands on her hips. “But Nicole’s isn’t until May.”

“But I won’t be home,” Waverly argues back. She turns sharply and jogs back into The Patch. 

Through the window, Nicole can see her smile and wave at some of the tables, go behind the counter, and disappear. She pops back up and starts heading across the dining room towards the door.

“How come  _ you _ get a gift?” Wynonna grumbles.

Nicole jabs her finger in Wynonna’s direction. “ _ You  _ took one of my nights with her. This is payback.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Like you won’t come over that night anyway.”

Nicole opens her mouth, but Waverly is in front of her again, shoving a bag into her hands. She frowns, pulling a shoe box out of the bag. She looks up, biting down on her bottom lip nervously. “Wow. Shoes. Thank you, baby. You didn’t have to, you know. I just-”

“Oh my god, just open it,” Waverly interrupts. “I didn’t buy you boots. I know how…  _ particular _ you are about them.”

“I just don’t like  _ sparkles _ ,” Nicole grumbles. She steadies the box against her chest and opens the lid, frowning.

“Ice skates?” Wynonna asks. “What a lame gift.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “Baby, they’re really sweet, but I… I can’t skate.”

Waverly smiles brightly, pushing the skates back into Nicole’s hands. “I know that, silly. I’m going to  _ teach _ you.”

“When’s the last time  _ you _ skated?” Nicole asks slowly.

Waverly frowns. “19… 1985, I think? When Curtis made that ice rink. Do you remember that?”

Nicole smiles softly. “Yeah, I remember.”

“But it’s just like riding a bike, isn’t it?” Waverly continues.

“If the bike was on ice,” Nicole mutters.

“Whatever, noobs.” Wynonna sighs and pushes her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. “I’m going down to Bustillos. Doc missed me, if you know what I mean.” She winks.

Nicole sighs. “Even Cecil Wright, Jr. knows what you’re talking about.”

“Gus wants to see you, you know,” Waverly says, glancing back at The Patch.

Wynonna shrugs like she doesn’t care, but Nicole can see the fear in her eyes - the fear of being yelled at; of being a disappointment again. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

Waverly frowns. “She knows you’re home.”

“So tell her I’ll be by tomorrow and she’ll know that, too,” Wynonna fires back. “I’ll stay at Doc’s tonight. I’ll be by in the morning.”

Nicole drops her arm across the back of Waverly’s shoulders. “We’ll be here.”

Something flickers in Wynonna’s eyes. “Yeah, okay. I mean, that’s fine, or whatever.” She scoffs. “Aren’t you always here?”

_ Shouldn’t you be _ ? Nicole wants to ask.

Instead, she nods. “I like consistency.”

Waverly snorts.

Wynonna looks between the two of them, her lip turned up. “You guys are so warped.”

“It’s  _ love _ ,” Nicole corrects.

“It’s grody,” Wynonna says.

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Jealous? Me?” Wynonna scoffs. “I’m not jealous.”

Waverly grins and slips out from under Nicole’s arm, wrapping her arms around Wynonna’s neck and kissing her on the cheek. “Please come tomorrow morning?”

Wynonna opens her mouth, her eyes hard and guarded, but she sees Nicole’s soft smile and her shoulders drop. “Sure, baby girl. I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Wynonna breathes out.

Nicole grins. “Good. Because I want to be there when Gus tears into you about fighting strangers.”

“Oh, get bent,” Wynonna mutters. “You would have done the same.”

Nicole goes to argue, but Waverly elbows her pointedly and she sighs.

“Exactamundo,” Wynonna sings. She starts down the street, one arm stretched high above her head as she flips them off. She trips on a raised crack in the sidewalk, stumbling forward and barely catching herself. 

“ _ Toepick!” _ Nicole shouts.

“Toe…” Wynonna trails off. “What the  _ hell _ is a toepick?”


End file.
